The doctor will kill you now
by Paul Auchon
Summary: Illya and Gaby are waiting for Napoleon to get back from his evening out. When he doesn't show up, Illya goes looking for him and both are captured by some dangerous people who want something from Napoleon and are ready to hurt his partner to make sure he cooperates.
1. Chapter 1

**New story! All I can say about this one is: poor Illya. I hope you like it, let me know what you think :)**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own the characters**

"What time did Solo say he would be back?", Gaby asked. She was trying to keep her tone casual but Illya could sense that she was getting nervous.

They were taking some downtime in their hotel room after a particularly tricky mission in London. As usual, Napoleon had decided to spend the evening out to celebrate.

"He didn't say.", Illya replied. "Why are you worrying about him? Cowboy can take care of himself."

"I know, it's just that it's getting late and he said he wouldn't be out too long…"

"You're always acting like you're his mother.", Illya said, amused. "Besides, you don't need to worry, I know exactly where Cowboy is."

"You do?"

Illya nodded.

"You want me to show you?", he said, a mischievous smile playing on his lips.

He went to his room and came back holding his tracking device.

"You put a tracker in his shoe again?", Gaby sighed, looking at the dot on the screen. "You two are like children.", she said, shaking her head.

Illya's smile grew wider. With his ruffled hair and the grin on his face, he looked like a little boy who had pulled a good prank. Gaby couldn't help but smile.

"See, Cowboy's heading back, he'll be here in five minutes."

 _ **10 minutes later**_

"Shouldn't that dot be moving? You said that Solo would be here soon, it's been more than five minutes already."

Illya looked at the unmoving dot and frowned.

"According to this he is right outside the hotel. Maybe he's too drunk and can't figure out how to get in.", the thought made him chuckle.

"Or maybe he found your tracker and got rid of it outside and he's heading up right now."

"Hmm, doubtful…"

They waited in silence for a while.

"Maybe we should go check if he's okay…", Gaby finally said.

Illya looked at her and saw the worry in her eyes.

"Okay, I will go get him. But don't count on me to take care of him if he's drunk and starts throwing up everywhere.", he answered, as he got up and headed towards the door.

On the way down the stairs Illya realized that he had forgotten to take his jacket. Hopefully he wouldn't need it. As soon as he stepped out he felt the chilly night air, it was raining too. He cursed as he scanned the area in front of the hotel. Solo wasn't there. He cursed again. Where was the stupid American? Then he heard what sounded like a scuffle. The noise was coming from a narrow street just around the corner. Illya noticed a black truck parked in the shadows near the street, the back was open. Warning bells started to ring in his head, he couldn't shake the impression that something was wrong. As he got closer he could make out Solo's voice. He turned the corner and spotted his partner. He was not alone, four men, all dressed in black, surrounded him. One man had his arms hooked under Napoleon's armpits and was immobilizing him. Another man was punching him in the stomach. Illya saw Napoleon double over and the man who was holding him pushed him to the ground. He cursed for the third time and charged at the nearest man.

Napoleon was facedown on the ground, gasping, still trying to recover from the blow he had taken to the stomach when he heard something that sounded like a roar. He turned his head and spotted the familiar silhouette of his partner.

 _Excellent timing, Peril._

Thanks to the element of surprise and to his colossal strength, Illya had already taken down two of the men and was fighting the one who had punched Napoleon. The fourth man, who had pushed Solo to the ground had managed to slip some handcuffs around his wrists and was using his weight to prevent him from getting up.

Unbeknownst to Napoleon and Illya, two other men had gotten out of the truck and were observing the fight.

"This one is Kuryakin, KGB agent. He's one of Solo's partners.", one of the men commented.

The man next to him took out a gun and aimed it at Illya's back.

"He's remarkably strong. I'll kill him before he completely wipes out our team."

"Wait. He's Solo's partner and he came to rescue him. So it's reasonable to assume that they care about each other. We could take him too. Use him as leverage, to make sure Solo cooperates… Shoot him but don't kill him."

The other man was playing with his gun, spinning it around his finger.

"Anywhere you want me to shoot him in particular?"

"No, just try to make it non-fatal. Our good doctor will patch him up."

" 'Try'? You're insulting me.", the gunman answered with a smile as he attached a sound suppressor to the barrel of his gun.

"Very impressive Mr Kuryakin."

Illya, who was about to punch his half-conscious opponent, froze mid-gesture and spun around. He hadn't heard the two men approaching. One of them was holding a gun and pointing it at him. Illya looked at the gun, looked up, saw the man take a deep breath, then he heard a muffled 'bang' and felt something hit him in the shoulder.

"Peril?..."

That was Napoleon, he sounded worried. Illya felt something trickle down his arm. He touched his shoulder, looked at his hand, there was blood on it. He turned his head to look at his shoulder, there was a hole there, a bullet hole. The man had shot him. Damn, that was going to hurt when the adrenaline wore off. Actually, Illya was already starting to feel a burning pain.

"Illya, behind you!"

But the warning came too late. Distracted by the hole and the increasing pain in his shoulder, Illya hadn't noticed that the man he had been fighting had recovered and was now standing right behind him. His opponent kicked him behind the knees and he fell to the ground. Then he felt the man's arm around his neck, the hand on the back of his head. Then came the familiar pressure on his carotid arteries. He knew what was going to happen next, but he suddenly felt too weak to struggle and let himself drift into unconsciousness.

 _ **A few minutes later, at the hotel**_

After a while, when she realized that Illya wasn't coming back with Napoleon, Gaby decided to go down and see what was going on. Once in the street she found no trace of her partners. She waited half an hour in the cold for them to show up. Eventually she went back up to their room, worried sick. Then she decided to check Illya's tracking device and her heart missed a beat. The dot was gone, the tracker was no longer active.

 _Illya, Solo, where are you? What's going on?_

 _ **Half an hour later**_

 _I'm beginning to think Peril was right when he said I have the worst luck in the world…_

Napoleon and Illya had been shoved into the back of the truck and they were now heading towards an unknown destination. Four of the men were with them in the back, two of them were pointing guns at the two agents. They were also holding flashlights. The two other men were the gunman who had shot Illya and the man who had been standing next to him and appeared to be the leader of the group. Napoleon glanced worriedly at his partner. Illya's opponent had kept him in a chokehold long enough for one of the other thugs to cuff his hands behind his back, then he had regained consciousness. Illya was now sitting up against the inside wall of the truck. He was trying his best to hide it but Napoleon could tell that he was in pain.

The gunman, who was sitting next to Illya, grabbed a flashlight and leaned closer to the Russian, he started examining his wound. Then he shot a glance at the leader and smiled.

"A nice, clean through-and-through wound to the deltoid, missed the artery. See, you should never doubt my legendary precision. To be honest I'm actually surprised myself."

He turned his attention back to Illya.

"You're a lucky fellow.", he said, patting the Russian on his injured shoulder, causing him to cry out. "Oops, sorry.", the gunman added, his tone falsely apologetic, then he chuckled.

Napoleon decided that it was time to ask some questions. He doubted he was going to get any answers but at least it would take the attention away from Illya and give him some respite. He cleared his throat.

"Sorry, you all seem to be very nice people. And I don't mean to be rude or anything but, why exactly are we here?", he asked, addressing the leader.

"Patience Mr Solo. We'll soon tell you everything you need to know. For now let's just say that we invited you because we need you to do something for us. And your partner, Mr Kuryakin, is here as insurance."

The man knew their names, that was never a good sign.

"Well I see a small flaw in your plan. Mr Kuryakin won't be much use to you if he dies from that bullet wound."

"Oh don't worry. As my colleague was explaining, the wound is not life threatening. We can easily control the bleeding until we get to our destination. Then we'll introduce him to our doctor, one of the best, he'll take good care of him."

The cruel smile on the leader's face made Napoleon uneasy and he fell silent. He watched as the gunman produced a gauze strip from what looked like a med-kit and started wrapping it tightly around Illya's shoulder. The man pulled on the strip one last time to make the bandage even tighter and Napoleon winced as Illya cried out again. Then the man used tape to hold the gauze in place.

Napoleon sighed inwardly. It had been such a lovely night…

 _At least we're both alive, that's something…_

 **End of chapter 1.**

 **I know bullet wounds to the shoulder can be really messy but let's just say that Illya is really (kinda) lucky :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**New chapter (it was a very long chapter so I uploaded it as two different chapters)**

 **So yeah like I said: poor Illya, I think I may have been a bit too mean, but don't worry, things will get better for him :)**

* * *

 _ **A few hours later, unknown location**_

No one had uttered another word during the rest of the trip. Illya had tried to rest but the gunman next to him kept pressing on his wound every time he closed his eyes. This had made Napoleon angry and he had been itching to punch the man and wipe the stupid grin off his face. But he knew that protesting would either amuse their captors further or make things worse for Illya so he had kept his mouth shut, his expression neutral. After a while they had reached their destination and they had been pushed out of the truck at gunpoint.

Their captors had led them through a maze of corridors and they were now standing in a large room, full of what looked like medical equipment. Napoleon's eyes were drawn to what looked like a large examination table in the centre of the room. It had thick leather restraints for the ankles and wrists. He noticed that the restraints for the wrists were placed far apart and rather close to the end of the table so that the arms would be raised slightly above the head and away from the body.

 _Not a comfortable position to be in…_

He also noticed a heavy metal chair near the table which also had restraints for the ankles and wrists. A man was standing next to the table. He was wearing a white coat and had a stethoscope around his neck. Napoleon assumed that this was the doctor the leader had mentioned. The doctor had a welcoming smile pasted on his face, the more Napoleon looked at him the more uneasy he felt. The leader motioned for Napoleon to sit in the heavy metal chair he had spotted earlier.

"Make yourself comfortable Mr Solo, there are some things that we need to discuss."

Napoleon shot a glance at Illya, then he sighed and sank in the chair. One of the leader's henchmen removed his handcuffs and fastened the leather straps around his ankles and wrists.

"I'm all ears, but make it quick, I only just remembered that I have a doctor's appointment later tonight."

"You're quite the funny man Mr Solo. But I'm afraid it's not your talent for comedy that we're interested in."

"Pity. What do you want from me then?"

"Let me cut straight to the chase, of course you and your U.N.C.L.E. team know about the secret facility located just outside London and that is used by a branch of the MI6 under the supervision of Alexander Waverly to store lots of invaluable information about the MI6 itself and criminal organizations all over the world."

"Excuse me but I'm not quite sure I understand what you're talking about. I'm a CIA agent, I don't know about any secret team, I do have an uncle though but I doubt you'd like to meet him, he not the most sociable person."

"Oh please, don't play dumb Mr Solo. I read your file. You work for MI6 operative Alexander Waverly under the codename U.N.C.L.E.. Your team is composed of agent Gaby Teller, KGB agent Illya Kuryakin and yourself Napoleon Solo. Now, here's what we would like you to do, my superiors want to get their hands on that information but all our attempts have failed, we can't breach the facility security and haven't been able to get to the safe containing the information. Your mission would be a rather simple one, we want you to collect that information for us."

"Wait, I might work for Waverly, but I'm just a simple agent, I don't have the kind of clearance that would allow me to freely walk in and out of that base carrying around top secret information."

"Playing dumb again Mr. Solo, this is getting annoying. I told you I've read your file. I know that you haven't always been an honest CIA agent. And I know that you have a particular talent for getting your hands on things that don't belong to you. I'm not asking you to attempt to walk into the facility in broad daylight and ask politely for the information. I'm asking you to steal it."

"I'm sorry but I think you're overestimating my abilities."

"Ah, don't be modest Mr. Solo. You work for that organization so you will be familiar with the security systems. This should be a piece of cake for you."

"What if refuse?"

The leader and the doctor exchanged a glance and the smile on the doctor's face widened.

"Well I'm not asking you to give me an answer right away. We still have a few hours left before morning, so you'll have some time to think about it and I have a hunch that tomorrow you will have made a wise decision. In the meantime, I'll leave you in the company of our doctor."

Then, before he left the room, he gave the doctor some instructions that sent a chill down Napoleon's spine.

"The Russian you can play with all you want, just don't kill him. This one though, you don't touch him.", he said, pointing at Napoleon. Then he was gone.

"So I understand this big fella is my patient?", the doctor said, looking at Illya. "Let's put him on the examination table, shall we. It will be much more comfortable for him."

Two of the remaining men dragged Illya towards the table. He tried to struggle but the wound in his shoulder had made him weak. The men forced him to lie on the table and one of them fastened the leather straps around his ankles. When they tried to do the same for his wrists he started struggling harder, refusing to let them raise his arms above his head. A third man came to help, he put all his weight on Illya's chest, immobilizing him and pressed on his shoulder wound. The sudden pain made him cry out and he stopped struggling, allowing the men to finally fasten the restraints around his wrists.

"There, isn't that much better?", the doctor asked, that unnerving smile still pasted on his lips. "I hope the restraints are not too tight, I apologize for that but what I'm about to do to you is going to cause you a lot of pain and I don't want you moving around too much, you could fall off the table and injure yourself further."

The doctor turned to Napoleon.

"So it sounds like you're only allowed to watch Mr. Solo. Don't worry, I'll make this entertaining. From what I understand, your partner was shot in the shoulder? Let's have a look at that wound."

The doctor picked up a pair of scissors and cut through the gauze bandage around Illya's shoulder.

"I'm going to have to remove your shirt too, Mr. Kuryakin, examining your wound will be much easier that way."

Napoleon watched as the man used the same scissors to expertly cut the front and the sleeves of Illya's shirt open, then he removed the pieces of fabric.

As the man peeled away what was left of his shirt, Illya felt his pulse quicken. Tied to the table, with his arms raised above his head and his bare chest completely exposed, he felt extremely vulnerable. Of course he would have sooner died rather than let the man know that he was scared. He forced himself to calm down and breathe evenly but despite his efforts he noticed that his body had tensed. He knew the man would notice too and that made him angry.

Satisfied that he could have easy access to the wound, the doctor started examining it.

"Oh I see, the bullet just went right through, missed the artery, a nice shot, I recognize the touch of our gun expert. Does it hurt?"

Illya didn't answer, he didn't even look at the man, he just glared at the ceiling.

"He's a shy one, isn't he?", the man said, smiling at Napoleon. "But don't worry, I'll put him at ease. My bedside manner is excellent.", he added.

Then he suddenly grabbed Illya's biceps in a vice grip and brutally pushed his index finger into the wound.

Illya gasped in surprise and pain. He was no longer staring at the ceiling, his wide eyes were now fixed on the man's hand. He inhaled shakily as he tried to regain control of his breathing.

"Ah, now I have your attention. Now tell me, how would you rate your pain on a scale of zero to ten?"

Illya kept his eyes on the man's hand but remained silent. The doctor sighed and proceeded to move his finger around inside the wound.

This time Illya was unable to control his reaction, the pain was excruciating. He started screaming and thrashing against his restraints, trying desperately to escape the man's grip.

"Ah, I was beginning to wonder if you had a voice. From what hear it does seem to hurt quite a bit. But don't worry, I'll make it better.", the doctor said mockingly.

Illya let out an agonized whimper as his torturer briskly removed his finger from inside the wound. The man used a piece of white cloth to wipe the blood off his hand. Then he pressed the cloth against Illya's wound.

Napoleon had watched the scene without uttering a word. His face had remained impassive but he could feel his heart pounding and the blood beating in his temples. He had seen enough, he had to make this stop. He wasn't going to watch Illya get tortured all night. Especially not when he was partly responsible for him being here.

"Listen, you don't have to hurt him. I'm ready to talk to your boss now. If you could just send someone to fetch him, I am sure we could discuss things further and come to an agreement.", Napoleon said, trying to keep his tone polite.

"I'm afraid my 'boss' won't be available until tomorrow morning Mr. Solo. On the bright side, it gives us some time to get better acquainted. And don't worry about your friend, I'm not trying to hurt him, I only want to make him better."

Napoleon cursed inwardly. This wasn't the answer he had been hoping for. Illya was going to have to tough it out until he was allowed to speak to the leader again.

 _Just hang in there, Peril…_

 **End of Chapter 2**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3 (second part of the long chapter)**

 **Okay I was way too mean in this chapter, but like I said, things will get better :)**

* * *

"So what do you think Mr. Solo, do I need to extract the bullet or do I just leave it in?"

Napoleon frowned, confused.

"The bullet is not inside him, it went through his shoulder, you said it yourself."

"Ah but through-and-through wounds are so boring. It's much more entertaining when you get to dig the bullet out…we just need to put it back in first."

The doctor walked up to the armed men who were posted at the door. When he came back he was holding a small-caliber bullet. He held it out in front of Illya.

"There you go, Mr. Kuryakin. It might not be the perfect fit but it will do."

Napoleon shot the man a disbelieving look. He was half-hoping that it was only a sick joke. That the doctor wasn't actually going to force a bullet into Illya's wound. But despite the smile on his face, the man wasn't joking. Napoleon saw a flash of fear in his partner's eyes as the doctor felt his shoulder for the exit wound.

The next few minutes were agony for Illya as he felt the bullet being pushed deep into his damaged flesh. He had been tortured before and had a higher pain threshold than most people but with the stress caused to his body by the bullet wound, he wasn't sure that he could take much more.

"Good job Mr. Kuryakin, now I just need to pull it out. This might hurt a little.", the doctor said, picking up a pair of forceps.

Napoleon could only watch as his partner writhed in agony. Just as the doctor was finally extracting the bullet, Illya's screams stopped and his body went completely slack. The doctor set the forceps and the bullet down on a tray and tapped the Russian on the cheek to wake him up. After a minute, Illya began to rouse.

"Welcome back Mr. Kuryakin. You want to remain conscious or you're going to miss out on the fun."

The man then proceeded to clean and dress Illya's wound.

"There, all patched up. I think I'll take care of your broken fingers now."

Napoleon and Illya exchanged a confused glance.

 _What is he talking about? Illya doesn't have broken fingers._

The doctor was holding Illya's hand, examining it. Suddenly, without any warning, he grabbed the Russian's index finger and twisted it forcefully. Illya gasped as he heard a sickening crack. Before he could process what had just happened, the man broke another of his fingers.

The doctor let go of his hand and smiled as he observed his victim's reaction. Illya's eyes were screwed shut, his breath came in short gasps, his chest rising convulsively as he waited for the pain to lessen.

"Take deep breaths, Mr. Kuryakin, I know broken fingers can be very painful. But don't worry, the fractures don't look too nasty and should heal nicely. Your fingers will need to be splinted though."

Napoleon watched as the man splinted his partner's broken fingers. He was surprisingly gentle and the contrast with his earlier brutal behavior was disturbing.

"That wasn't so bad, was it, Mr. Kuryakin? Now, let me see what other injuries need to be taken care of.", the doctor said, picking up one of the scalpels from the tray.

Napoleon felt his gut twist as he saw the scalpel glint in the man's hand. It was too much. He knew his partner was resistant but he could tell that he had reached his limits.

"Wait, stop, I think he's had enough, he needs a break."

The man raised his eyebrows in mock surprise.

"Stop, Mr. Solo? You want me to stop tending to your partner? I must warn you that this could have dangerous consequences."

He put the scalpel back on the tray and walked to a small cabinet. He returned to the table holding a small bottle and a syringe.

"You know, Mr. Solo,", he went on, filling the syringe with the liquid contained in the bottle. "if I don't treat all of your partner's injuries, he could get worse. His heart might even stop."

He held out the bottle in front of Napoleon so that he could read the label.

 _Potassium chloride…_

There was more than enough of it in the syringe to stop Illya's heart permanently.

"So tell me, Mr. Solo,", the man said, bringing the needle close to Illya's arm. "Do you really want me to stop tending to my patient?"

Illya hadn't seen what the man had put in the syringe but judging by Solo's reaction he understood that it wasn't a simple flu shot. He was struggling to move his arm away from the needle. Napoleon didn't know what to think. The doctor was not supposed to kill Illya. Surely he wasn't crazy enough to disobey the leader's orders? Napoleon wasn't going to bet Illya's life on it.

"I need an answer Mr. Solo, do you want me to stop?"

Napoleon glared at the man for a moment before he finally answered.

"No…"

"I didn't think so.", the man said, setting the syringe down on the tray and picking up the scalpel again. "Don't worry Mr. Kuryakin, I'm going to tend to all your injuries. Especially the really bad ones."

He brought the scalpel down and ran it delicately up Illya's chest, careful not to break the skin. Then he placed the tip of the blade on the Russian's throat and smiled as he noticed that he was holding his breath. He finally removed the blade, put a hand around Illya's throat and pushed on his jaw to turn his head to the side.

"Oh this looks bad. How did you manage to get your ear cut off?"

The doctor laughed as Illya's eyes went wide and he felt his victim's pulse quickening beneath his hand.

"Your pulse is racing Mr. Kuryakin. I wonder what could be causing that. Do you have a family history of heart disease? Let me do a brief check-up."

The man put the scalpel down and used his stethoscope to listen to Illya's heart, then he measured his blood pressure. Again, Napoleon noticed that he was very gentle. Looking at the way he was examining Illya, it was hard to believe that it was the same man who had wanted to cut off his partner's ear a minute earlier. The contrast was so striking that it sent a chill down Napoleon's spine.

"Well, Mr. Kuryakin, your heart rate is too high, so is your blood pressure. Have you been under a lot of stress lately? Surely that can't be good for your health.", the man said in a mocking tone. "I would recommend that you take some time to rest. I'll leave you for now but don't worry I promise I will take care of your ear later."

The man patted Illya's head, then he walked to the door and left the room. The remaining guards followed him outside and Napoleon and Illya were the only ones left in the room. After a few moments, Illya broke the awkward silence.

"That man is deranged."

Napoleon couldn't help but smile as he heard his partner's indignant tone.

"Finely observed, Peril. You seem to be a magnet for this type of people. I bet they all fall for your gorgeous blue eyes…how are you holding up?"

"I'm fine."

"The truth, Peril."

"The fingers hurt."

"How is your shoulder?"

"The shoulder hurts worse."

Napoleon didn't know what to say, he felt sorry for his partner but, restrained in the chair, unable to move, there wasn't really anything he could do to help him.

"Try to get some rest."

Illya nodded, his wound and the torture had left him exhausted. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. After a few moments, he was asleep. Napoleon watched the rhythmic rise and fall of his partner's chest for a while. He had already made his decision. Now that he had seen what their captors were capable of, he knew that the best course of action would be to cooperate, or at least pretend to cooperate until he could find a way to get them out of this mess. In the morning he would tell the leader that he was ready to work with them on the condition that they didn't torture Illya again. Then he would need to improvise.

 _Who doesn't love a good challenge?_

 **End of Chapter 3.**

 **I hope you still enjoyed it :)**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4. That's a long one. I tried to be a bit nicer to Illya :). Let me know what you think.**

* * *

 _ **The next morning, in the hotel room**_

Gaby was woken up by the pale light of the morning coming through the curtains. At first she was confused when she realized that she had been sleeping in one of the chairs in the main room. Then she gradually remembered the events of the night. After she had seen the dot disappear on Illya's tracking device, she had been too worried to go to sleep and she had decided to stay awake and wait in case Napoleon and Illya turned up. Then she must have dozed off at some point during the night. Gaby got up, massaging her sore neck and quickly walked to the door of Illya's room, she knocked, no answer. Gaby opened the door, the curtains were drawn, the bed was made, no one was there. She checked Napoleon's room and the bathroom but, again, she found no trace of her partners and no evidence that they had been there while she was sleeping. So they hadn't returned, they had spent the night out. But where, and why? Illya was supposed to meet Solo downstairs and bring him back to his room. Then the two of them had simply disappeared. And the dot on the tracking device had disappeared too. Illya had probably told Solo about the tracker and Solo had disabled it, at least that meant that the two of them were together. But then what had happened that had prevented them from getting back inside the hotel? Had there been something wrong with Solo? Gaby remembered the uneasy feeling that had gripped her as Illya and her were watching the unmoving dot on Illya's tracking device. Solo had been standing right outside the hotel. Had he been injured when Illya had found him? But even if he had been hurt or sick and had needed a trip to the doctor, Illya would have taken the car and he would never have left without telling her first. It didn't make any sense. Maybe they were pulling a prank on her? Illya kept teasing her about her tendency to mother her partners…

The sudden sound of the alarm clock interrupted her thoughts. Then she remembered that they had a meeting scheduled with Waverly. They were supposed to talk about their new assignment. Gaby knew that Illya and Solo would never miss a meeting with their boss. She quickly took a shower and got dressed, then she left. She was hoping that her partners would show up at the meeting and explain what had happened and where they had been all night. Then she would get mad and tell them how worried she was and she would make them feel bad, especially Illya.

Gaby spent the whole drive thinking about the things she could say to Illya to make him feel guilty and miserable. She knew that it wouldn't work on Solo, he would flash her his trademark smile and simply wait for her to calm down. With Illya, it was easier. Although he tried his best to hide it, she could always tell that it hurt him when she got mad at him. And she was really going to hurt him this time. He deserved it.

Gaby finally got to the small cafe where the meeting was supposed to take place. She was so angry that she stormed past Waverly without seeing him. She turned around when she heard him call her name and she finally spotted him. He was sitting at a table. Alone. Gaby's anger evaporated. Her partners were not there.

"Good morning Miss Teller, I hope you were able to take some time to relax yesterday. I know you might feel that it's a bit too soon for a new assignment but I promise it is a simple one, not as tricky as your latest mission. Where are your partners?"

Gaby sat down opposite Waverly.

"I don't know, I thought they would be here. I haven't seen them since last night. They haven't contacted me. I'm a bit worried…"

"Ah, did they go out to celebrate the success of your mission yesterday? Maybe they had a little too much to drink. Maybe they're just late."

"Well Solo spent the evening out yesterday, then Illya went to meet him outside and they never came back…"

Waverly nodded and looked at his watch, he didn't seem overly concerned.

"Solo probably dragged Kuryakin along for a bar tour or something like that. It's a pity that they're not here but I'll let it slide this time since they did so well on your latest assignment. I'm counting on you to pass on the details of your next assignment once you get a hold of your hopefully not too hung over partners", he said winking at Gaby.

Gaby nodded. She wanted Waverly to be right but it all seemed wrong to her. Her boss didn't know Illya like she did. She knew he wouldn't have left for a bar tour with Napoleon without telling her first. She felt her stomach knot with worry. She knew that they were both trained agents and could take care of themselves but she couldn't shake the feeling that something bad had happened to them.

"Hum, about the new assignment…", Waverly began, interrupting her thoughts.

Gaby looked up, focusing her attention on her boss, Waverly went on:

"In the past three months, there has been a series of failed break-ins at the facility where our most secret information is kept. We've had three attempts so far. The first intruder was shot and killed by the security guards, the second one was able to escape. We managed to capture the third one and interrogated him. The only information that we were able to get out of him was that he works for a secret organization."

"He hasn't said anything else since?", Gaby asked, surprised.

Waverly grimaced.

"Well, he might have but we found him dead in his cell the next day. Apparently he used a suicide pill. Now the good thing is that we were able to identify him and the first intruder who was killed by the security guards. The two are small-scale criminals who had nothing in common until they both tried to break into our facility. So it appears that some new secret criminal organization has been recruiting criminals and is determined to get into that building, probably to gain access to some top-secret information. Of course, we're not too worried about them succeeding, our security system is practically impenetrable and the three intruders were stopped before they even had a chance to get inside the building. Still, it wouldn't hurt to learn more about that mysterious organization. Even though they don't appear to be a serious threat right now, they might cause trouble in the future. So your next assignment is to find out everything you can about that organization. Who are the people in charge, what are they up to, how do we find them. I suggest you start by finding out more about our two dead criminals and their associates. Here are the files containing all the information we have about them."

Gaby had listened attentively without uttering a word, she accepted the files and slipped them into her purse.

"Oh and when you see your partners, tell them to give me a call.", Waverly added. Then he finished his cup of tea and stood up. The meeting was over.

On the way back to the hotel Gaby kept thinking about her partners. Where were they, why had they not contacted her, were they in trouble? Once she was back in their hotel room she decided to focus on her new assignment, it would help take her mind off Illya and Napoleon. If they were not back by nightfall she would call Waverly…and then what? She didn't want to think about it. She took the files out of her purse and started reading.

* * *

 _ **Unknown location**_

Napoleon had spent the rest of the night watching his partner sleep. On several occasions, Illya had whimpered softly in his sleep. He was probably reliving his less than pleasant doctor's appointment in his dreams. Napoleon had also used that time to think about their situation. He knew that if he was going to accept the leader's offer, he needed to convince him to let Illya accompany them. There would be nothing to prevent them from killing his partner once he gave them what they wanted. They might even kill him as soon as he left. Napoleon was convinced that if he left him there, the Russian was a dead man. The only way he might be able to save him was to make sure he came with them.

Napoleon was starting to wonder what time it was when he heard the door open and the doctor, the leader and the man who had shot Illya entered the room. They were followed by two guards.

The doctor walked up to the examination table and put his hand on Illya's shoulder, shaking him gently.

"It's time to wake up, young man."

The Russian's eyes shot open and for a moment he looked disoriented. Then he recognized the man and his confused expression turned into a furious glare.

"I see your friend was well taken care of.", the leader said addressing Napoleon. "See, I wasn't lying yesterday. Our good doctor is one of the best."

The cruel smile that stretched his lips as his gaze lingered on Illya's broken fingers made Napoleon's blood boil but he knew he couldn't let his anger show if he wanted to save his partner.

"Now, about our earlier conversation, have you finally made up your mind?"

"Of course.", Napoleon answered. "Well, after carefully considering my options", he went on, his eyes on Illya "I realized that it was in my best interest to take you up on your offer."

"That's formidable news Mr. Solo. I knew you would come to your senses. Now let's waste no more time, we need to start now if we want you to be ready for tonight's mission."

"Tonight? You don't expect me to break into the building tonight? You do know that that kind of operation requires at least a week of preparation?"

"Don't be modest Mr Solo, we'll provide you with everything you need to complete the mission, your skills will do the rest. Besides, the people I work for are getting impatient, you know what bosses are like, they want results, and we've already failed three times."

Napoleon felt his heart rate speed up. What the man was asking him to do was dangerous, foolish, bordering on impossible. Hopefully he wouldn't actually have to do it, he just needed to get Illya out of here and then wait for the first occasion to give their captors the slip.

"What about my partner? I don't think you'll be needing him here anymore so he might as well come with us."

The leader smiled.

"I understand that your partner needs to rest. I think it's wiser to leave him here in the care of our doctor."

Napoleon cursed inwardly.

 _Of course, it would have been too easy…_

"How do I know you're not going to torture and kill him?"

"Torture him? How can you say such a thing when our doctor took such good care of him? No Mr Solo I can assure you that no one is going to hurt your precious partner. We're going to keep him safe and happy until you complete the mission and come back with the information we need. If you fail though, well, let's just say that Mr Kuryakin will be very sorry that he came to your rescue yesterday."

"And if I succeed, what happens next?"

"We'll release you both of course, we're not monsters, Mr Solo."

 _Of course…_

Napoleon looked at Illya. The Russian hadn't uttered a word since he had woken up but Napoleon could see as he looked into his eyes that his partner understood what the leader's words meant. It was obvious that he had no intention of releasing them. Again, Napoleon found himself struggling to preserve his apparent calm. He didn't want to leave Illya to be tortured and killed. But it was going to happen anyway if he refused to help them.

"Time to leave now Mr Solo, we have a very busy day ahead of us. Don't worry, I give you my word that your partner will still be breathing when we get back."

One of the guards unfastened the restraints around Napoleon's wrists and ankles while the other pointed his gun at him and motioned for him to get up and walk toward the door. He took a few steps and stopped.

"Don't I get to say goodbye? You know, in case I fail to complete the mission."

"Of course Mr Solo, just make it quick."

Napoleon walked back toward the examination table but just as he was reaching it, he tripped and almost fell, barely managing to catch himself on the small table where the doctor had laid out his instruments.

"Sorry. I've been sitting in that chair for too long and I seem to have forgotten how to walk", he explained, straightening up.

"Nice try Mr Solo.", the leader said with a cold smile. "Now be reasonable and put that syringe you just took back on the tray. It wouldn't make a very effective weapon against our guns anyway."

"Sorry.", Napoleon answered with a grimace. "Old habits are hard to shake off."

Then he put the syringe full of potassium chloride back on the tray.

"I'll forgive you this time. Now hurry, we have already wasted too much time."

Napoleon stepped closer to the table, looked into Illya's eyes and squeezed his good hand in a comforting gesture.

"Well, I guess I'll see you later, Peril."

As his partner uttered these words, Illya felt something hard and cold being pushed between his wrist and the leather restraint.

 _A scalpel. Impressive, Cowboy…for once._

Illya watched as his partner was escorted out of the room at gunpoint by the guards and followed by the leader and the man who had shot him. The door was closed and he was left alone in the room with the doctor. The man moved closer to the examination table and put a hand on his arm. Illya felt his whole body tense automatically.

"So, apparently my boss promised your partner that I wouldn't touch you, but he doesn't have to know, does he? I'm sure you can keep a secret. It doesn't really matter anyway since we're going to kill you both. But for now, let's just focus on making you better."

Illya shot the man one of his murderous glares.

"What's with the frown? Have you been feeling depressed lately? I'm sure we can find a way to improve your mood. I think we should try electroshock therapy. It usually works wonders. It's very simple, I'm supposed to give you an anaesthetic and then place the electrodes on each side of your head.", the doctor explained positioning his hands on Illya's temples.

"Then the electrodes deliver a short burst of electrical current to the brain, which induces a seizure and after a few sessions your depression is gone. Of course that's the boring way of doing it. My method is a bit different, and a bit more painful. First, I don't think you need an anaesthetic, you'll see, it's much more fun without it. Another way to make it more exciting is to vary the placement of the electrodes so that you don't get bored of always feeling pain in the same place."

The doctor smiled as he noticed the brief flash of fear in his victim's eyes. Again, he used his stethoscope to listen to Illya's heart.

"Your heart is racing again Mr Kuryakin. Listen."

The man removed the ear tips of the stethoscope from his ears and inserted them into Illya's, allowing him to listen to his own heartbeat.

"It must mean that you're really excited about our program. I understand, I'm really enthusiastic too. Let's get started, shall we?"

As Illya watched the doctor prepare the machine and the electrodes while listening to his own frantic heartbeat he became aware of something hard pressing against his right wrist. The scalpel. He had almost forgotten that it was there. The contact of the cold piece of metal offered him some comfort. At least he wouldn't be strapped to that table much longer. And once he was free, the first thing he would do would be to strangle the man with his own stethoscope.

 **End of chapter 4.**

 **So as promised I was a bit nicer to Illya in this chapter (sorry about the ending but I didn't want Illya to be bored while Napoleon was gone, and at least now he has something to help him escape :) )**


	5. Chapter 5

_**Chapter 5! Thank you guys for the reviews, I hope you are still enjoying the story :)**_

* * *

 _ **1am**_

Napoleon was back in the truck, the leader and the man who had shot Illya were with him, two guards were pointing their guns at him and his hands were cuffed behind his back. He had spent the day pretending to cooperate, looking at blueprints, making a list of the different alarms that needed to be disabled to get inside the building and then get to the room where the information was located. Of course he was familiar with the security system but he had remained vague on purpose, after all, he was only pretending to cooperate, he didn't really intend to steal anything and he certainly wasn't going to give them a detailed explanation about how to break into a MI6 facility. They had provided him with a list of the files that they wanted him to steal and all the tools that he had requested. Then the leader had given him some instructions.

"Take it as a job interview Mr Solo.", the man had told him. "It's the perfect occasion for us to test your skills. You know, our organization is still relatively new and we're still recruiting. If you're successful tonight, we might hire you. A man of your talents would certainly be a considerable asset."

Although he had no intention of working for the man, Napoleon had been pleasantly surprised to hear that they were not planning on killing him after all.

"Well I'm flattered, but what makes you think that I would accept to work for you?", he had asked.

"You will, Mr Solo, it might take a little time but you will. As you've probably noticed, we can be very persuasive…"

After that, the leader had spent some time reviewing the plan with him. They would drop Napoleon off at a safe distance from the building, then he would walk the rest of the way. He was supposed to get in, get the files, get out and back to the truck. Then they would drive back to their base and he would be reunited with his partner. They hadn't talked about what would happen next but Napoleon had a pretty good idea of what they intended to do to Illya.

 _Illya…_

Napoleon was trying hard not to think about what could be happening to the Russian. Of course the leader had given him his word that no harm would come to his partner while he was away, but Napoleon didn't trust the sadistic doctor, he had witnessed the sick pleasure that the man had taken in making his friend suffer. He was really hoping that Illya would be able to use the scalpel to free himself. It wasn't much but it was all Napoleon had been able to do for him. But even if he managed to free himself and escape the doctor and the guards, what would he do then? He knew that Illya was a trained agent, getting himself out of perilous situations was part of his job, but the Russian was injured and probably not in the best shape. Napoleon considered his options. Either he trusted Illya to escape and get to safety by himself, which meant that he could simply walk away without even having to break into the building. That sounded tempting but even assuming that Illya managed to free himself with the scalpel, which was far from guaranteed, Napoleon doubted that his partner would be capable of getting out of the criminals' base on his own. The second option was to go back there to get Illya. That implied that he would have to break into the building, steal the files and get back inside the truck with the people whose intention was to keep him captive and force him to work for them. That sounded like a terrible plan. If he went back he needed to be sure that he could actually help Illya. He had to find some help from the outside, but how? The building he was supposed to break into was situated in an isolated area outside London, he very much doubted that he could find a payphone there, or a taxi. The only solution was to get inside the building and request that they contact Waverly. But that was risky too, with his black clothes and his bag full of tools and lock picks, the only thing he needed to make his intentions more obvious was a badge with 'burglar' written on it on his breast pocket. If he got arrested and they waited until the morning to contact his boss, he would lose all hope of rescuing Illya. It would be safer to enter the building undetected, then he would try to find a phone and call Waverly or Gaby himself. At the very least he had to get his hands on a gun.

The truck stopped, they had reached their destination. The guards removed his handcuffs and Napoleon made a show of checking the contents of his bag, he wanted his captors to think that he was concentrating on the mission. The leader repeated the instructions he had given him earlier.

"Remember Mr Solo, don't attempt to contact anyone, don't get caught on purpose, the guards might shoot you and we certainly don't want that to happen. Just get into the building, get to the room, take the files and come back here. If you get caught or if you come back without the files…well, you've seen what our doctor is capable of, you can easily imagine how painful your partner's death will be."

Napoleon felt a trickle of sweat run down his back.

"Aren't you going to give me a gun, you know, just in case?"

"What for, Mr Solo? A man with your skills doesn't need a gun. Besides, I find it hard to believe that you would shoot at your own people."

The man had a point. Napoleon got out of the truck, followed by one of the guards who was still pointing a gun at his back. The guard waited outside to make sure that Napoleon was going in the right direction. After a while, he had gotten far enough that the guard couldn't see him anymore, he stopped and looked at the road. It was tempting to just escape, he could easily get away, just follow the road, no one would stop him. But he knew he wouldn't do it, he had a building to break into and a partner to rescue.

 _ **1am, MI6 building**_

Gaby sighed as she got inside the car. Waverly had made sure she was granted access to the MI6 facility and she had spent a few hours there talking to the security guards about the break-ins. It hadn't been extremely useful though and she was finding it hard to concentrate as she was so worried about her friends. She took a deep breath and sank back in the car seat. Her gaze fell on Illya's tracking device, she didn't know why she had brought it with her, it was stupid but it had made her feel better. She was still hoping against hope that the dot would reappear and tell her where her partners were.

 _Of course, and it's probably also going to give me the weather forecast and the winning lottery numbers…_

She switched it on anyway and for a second she thought she was hallucinating. The dot was back, the tracker was still active, and not only that, according to Illya's device, the tracker was inside the building. How was that possible? She grabbed the tracking device, got out of the car and rushed back inside the building. Once inside, she used a telephone to call Waverly and told him about the whole tracker in the shoe story. She felt a bit silly explaining Illya's childish prank to her boss but if she wanted him to understand what was going on, she couldn't really leave that part out.

Waverly was obviously puzzled. He gave her permission to follow the progression of the tracker inside the building.

"Be careful, Miss Teller.", he added. "We can't be sure that it's really Solo. I'll talk to the security guards to make sure that they assist you and also that they don't shoot Solo by mistake…if it is indeed Solo."

* * *

A small smile of satisfaction stretched Napoleon's lips as he managed to open the door to the room where the files were kept. Getting inside the building had been the easy part. He had expected that getting to the room and opening the door without attracting attention would be much more complicated. But to his surprise, he hadn't bumped into any security guards. The building seemed deserted. That also meant that he hadn't been able to get his hands on a gun. He would have to take care of that later. He took the list out and started gathering the files. He knew that actually taking the files was going too far, even if he was just borrowing them. He was playing a dangerous game, he could get fired and end up in jail…again. But he needed to bring the men what they wanted or they would never take him back to Illya. At least the information in the files was encrypted. Even if they had the right tools and skills, it would probably be weeks, even months before the criminals could use that information. Hopefully he would have rescued Illya and returned the files well before that happened. He had already gathered half the files on the list when he heard a voice behind him.

"Solo, it's you!"

He knew that voice. Gaby? He turned around slowly.

"Oh hello, Gaby.", he said casually, smiling at her, perfectly concealing the fact that she had almost given him a heart attack.

Napoleon studied Gaby's face. She looked relieved, angry and confused all at the same time.

"What's going on, Solo? What are you doing here? How did you even get here? Where is Illya?"

"Well..."

 _Where to begin…_

"It's a long story and I don't have much time…"

"Start talking then!"

Napoleon quickly explained the situation to Gaby. How Illya and him had been captured, how he had been pressured into accepting to steal the files for their captors. He was careful to leave out the details of Illya's torture.

"You left him back there? Is he okay?"

"I didn't have much of a choice, I think he's okay."

"The truth, Solo."

Napoleon sighed. He should have learnt by now that he couldn't fool Gaby.

"They tortured him but he was alive when I left. They told me they would keep him alive until I got back."

Gaby grew pale but said nothing. He went on to explain how he had managed to give Illya the scalpel so that he could free himself and find a safe place to hide until Napoleon could come rescue him.

"If you don't mind,", Napoleon added. "I have a few questions myself. What are you doing here? How did you manage to find me?"

Gaby filled him in on their new assignment.

"Although from what I understand you know a lot more about it than I do.", she commented.

Then she told him about the tracker in his shoe. Napoleon got it out and examined it.

"I'm really going to have to talk to Peril about this when he gets back."

 _IF he gets back._

"So, that means you were following me all along. No wonder breaking in and getting here was so easy. I must admit I'm a bit disappointed, I thought it was all thanks to my exceptional skills."

Gaby glared at him.

"So,", he went on feigning to ignore her glare. "You said that the tracker suddenly stopped sending a signal the night we disappeared and only started emitting again tonight? They must be using some kind of jamming device in case someone puts a tracker on their truck, and I suppose that their base is protected too. The garage was inside the building and they never let me go outside."

Napoleon looked at his watch and frowned.

"I need to get back soon, or they'll know something's not right. Do you know where I can find a gun?"

"Wait, Solo. You're not actually thinking of going back there?"

"It's my only chance of rescuing Illya."

"What about the files? You know I can't let you take them."

"Come on, Gaby. We're talking about saving Peril's life. I need to bring them what they want or they won't take me back to him. And I have no idea where he is."

Gaby bit her lip as she held Napoleon's gaze. They needed to come up with a plan. Fast.

 _ **Twenty minutes later**_

Napoleon was back in the truck once again. The guards had taken his bag away and put the handcuffs back around his wrists. The leader had flipped through the files and had seemed satisfied.

"Impressive Mr Solo, very impressive.", the man had said. "It seems that I was right about you. You're hired, congratulations. I have a feeling that you'll accomplish great things with us Mr Solo."

 _We'll see about that…_

Napoleon was thinking about the tracker in his shoe. He couldn't believe that Illya's stupid joke was the one thing that was maybe going to save his life. He just needed to find a way to put the tracker somewhere outside of the criminals' base so that nothing would interfere with the signal. That would give Gaby the location of the base. Then Illya and him would have to find a way to stay alive until the cavalry arrived. It was a risky plan, far from foolproof, but it was the best they had been able to come up with in such a short time.

 **End of chapter 5.**


	6. Chapter 6

_**Chapter 6! Back to Illya :) I hope you enjoy this chapter**_

* * *

 _ **Half an hour later, unknown location**_

Illya groaned as he attempted to stretch his neck, his muscles were sore and even the slightest movement hurt. He had no idea what time of day it was. The doctor had spent what had seemed like hours torturing him, delivering painful jolts of electricity to his arms, feet and head. Illya had thought that he would get used to the pain after a while but he had been wrong, it had hurt like hell each time. He had to hand it to the doctor, the man was really good at inflicting pain. He must have passed out at some point and when he had woken up, he was alone in the room. Although it had been the perfect opportunity to use the scalpel to free himself, he had felt too weak to even move a finger. He didn't know how long he had been lying there, motionless but he could tell that he was finally beginning to feel a bit better, he was still weak but at least his body was responding. He twisted his wrist and managed to grab the scalpel, Napoleon had made sure that the blade bit into the leather when he had put it there. That way Illya only had to move the scalpel back and forth in a sawing motion. It wasn't easy though as he had to twist his wrist awkwardly and the handle kept slipping out of his fingers. He worked slowly, careful not to push the scalpel too far for fear that it would slip out of his reach. He hoped that he would have enough time to cut through the restraints completely before the doctor came back, he really didn't feel like going through another torture session. He was angry with himself for having wasted so much time, but he knew that his body had needed the rest. While he was slowly sawing through the leather, Illya was also thinking about the whole situation. He hoped that Cowboy was okay. He knew that his partner had only been pretending when he had agreed to cooperate with their captors. Solo would never actually steal top-secret information from the MI6 and hand it to a bunch of criminals, even to save his partner's life, he wouldn't. He was smarter than that. He would probably escape and contact Waverly and Gaby. Thinking about Gaby reminded him of the tracker in Solo's shoe. He hadn't mentioned it when he had been alone in the room with his partner the previous night, in case someone was listening in. But Gaby had his tracking device, and the tracker was still active when he had left to get Solo. So why hadn't Gaby sent someone to rescue them? Had the tracker been damaged during the fight? Or maybe the place was protected by some kind of jamming device. It didn't really matter anyway since Solo wasn't here anymore and he wouldn't come back. That meant that Illya had to escape by himself. It wasn't going to be easy, but at least, Cowboy had done half the work by providing him with the scalpel. He just needed a bit more time and his right hand would be free and then…

Illya froze as he heard footsteps outside the door. He quickly let go of the scalpel and made sure that it was well hidden behind his wrist. He let his body go completely slack and closed his eyes. The doctor entered the room and walked up to the examination table. He put his hand on Illya's arm and shook him gently. Illya pretended to wake up and groaned. He wanted the doctor to believe that he was still exhausted from the previous torture session.

"That was a long nap you took Mr Kuryakin, are you ready to continue your therapy?"

Illya didn't give any indication that he had heard the man.

"Still giving me the silent treatment? That's not very polite Mr Kuryakin. It's a pity that I have to make you scream to be able to hear your voice. Anyway, for our next session, I was thinking that we could try something a little more dangerous to make things more exciting. How about we place the electrodes on your chest this time?"

Illya felt his heart rate speed up but still didn't show any reaction.

"See, the current would flow from here…to there", the doctor went on, tracing the path of the electrical current on Illya's chest with his finger.

"Which means, that it will be passing through your heart. Doesn't that sound exciting Mr Kuryakin? Now I know that I'm not supposed to kill you until your partner gets back but don't worry, I'll try my best to make sure that you don't die too soon, we'll start small and then increase the dose as we go. I must say I'm really curious to find out how much of this your body can take before you die."

Illya resisted the urge to curse. Things really weren't going his way. Tempting as it may have sounded, repeated jolts of electricity through the heart wasn't something he was overly eager to experience. And it was highly unlikely that he would survive it. He had to free himself before the madman started frying his heart. If only he had a little more time…

He needed to find a way to distract the doctor while he finished cutting through the strap. The man was already positioning the electrodes on his chest.

 _Think fast, Kuryakin…_

"You're really not very talkative, Mr Kuryakin. You know, talking to the people who care about you might help with your depression."

Illya almost rolled his eyes, but the man's words had given him an idea. He was still making an effort to keep his body slack and appear weak and completely powerless. As the doctor bent over him to check that the second electrode was in place, he mumbled something inaudible.

"What was that, Mr Kuryakin? I can't hear you.", the man said, bending down so that he would be closer to Illya's face.

Illya spoke again, his voice barely more than a murmur, he weakly gestured for the man to lean even closer. The doctor bent lower until his face was almost touching Illya's.

"I'm listening, Mr Kuryakin."

Satisfied that the man's face was close enough, Illya head-butted him in the nose as hard as he could. He heard a satisfying crunch and the doctor yelled in surprise and pain as blood spurted from his nose. Illya didn't waste any time, as soon as the doctor staggered back, gasping and holding his hands to his face, he grabbed the scalpel and started cutting as fast as he could. The doctor stumbled away from the table to grab a piece of cloth and pressed it to his broken nose, attempting to stop the bleeding. As he heard him whimpering, it crossed Illya's mind that the man wasn't as good at taking pain as he was at inflicting it. Illya craned his neck to look at the leather strap, he only had a small portion of leather left to cut when the scalpel slipped out of his fingers, as he fumbled, trying to catch it, he pushed it even further. His heart missed a beat. He twisted his wrist and stretched his hand but it was no use, the scalpel was out of reach. His heart sank as he examined the strap, tugging at it. A piece of leather was still holding it together.

"That was a stupid thing to do Mr Kuryakin…"

Illya turned his head sharply to look at the doctor. The man was obviously still in pain but had stopped whimpering. He had discarded the piece of cloth and blood was pouring from his nostrils into his mouth and down his chin. His voice remained eerily calm but he had a dangerous glint in his eyes.

"It's a shame really, you were being such a good patient. I tried to make you better, Mr Kuryakin, really I've done all I could, but it wasn't enough. I think that it's time to end your suffering now."

End his suffering? Illya didn't like the sound of that. He saw the doctor pick up a syringe from the tray. The huge syringe with the mysterious liquid that he had almost injected into his arm earlier. A sadistic smile stretched the man's lips as he noticed the fear in Illya's eyes.

"Potassium chloride, Mr Kuryakin. Don't worry, it will put you to sleep in no time. It might be a bit painful, though."

The man stepped closer to the table and Illya started to panic, he tugged frantically at his restraints.

"You're not fighting back now, are you, Mr Kuryakin? What's the matter? Surely a big man like you is not afraid of a little needle? Don't worry, it's just a little prick and then it's over."

The doctor brought the needle closer to Illya's left arm, he was taking his time, savouring the moment, licking his lips as he watched his victim struggle desperately.

Just as the needle was about to pierce his skin, Illya pulled against his restraints one last time, as hard as he could…and the leather broke. His right wrist suddenly free, the Russian immediately grabbed the man's hand and, before the doctor had a chance to process what was happening, he stabbed him with his own syringe, driving the needle through his heart. The man gasped loudly as Illya depressed the plunger.

"Don't worry.", Illya said, his voice hoarse. "It's just a little prick…and then it's over."

Still gasping the doctor looked down at the syringe protruding from his chest. As he looked back up at Illya with a shocked expression, the Russian punched him square in the face and he finally collapsed, unconscious, probably dying.

Illya let out a sigh of relief as he sank back down on the table. He lay still for a moment, waiting for his heart to stop pounding. He suddenly felt exhausted, but he knew that he had to start moving if he wanted to escape. He unfastened the strap around his left wrist and sat up, grimacing at the pain in his shoulder, he noticed that the wound had started bleeding again. Then he removed the electrodes from his chest and quickly got rid of the straps around his ankles. He eased himself off the examination table and took a few steps. It hurt to walk, his whole body was sore. But at least he was alive. He quickly searched the room for a shirt but the only clothes he found were the ones on the doctor's body. Unfortunately Illya was much bigger than the man and it was obvious that the clothes wouldn't fit. He looked down at his bare chest and let out a disgruntled sigh. At least he had found his shoes so he wouldn't have to go barefoot. He suddenly became aware that he was terribly thirsty. He had found a sink at the far end of the room when he was looking for a shirt and he was able to quench his thirst. He was hungry too but that would have to wait. He retrieved the scalpel and put it in his pocket. The next step was to slip out of the room undetected and then, hopefully, he would find a way to escape from this place.

 **End of chapter 6.**

 **Yay, Illya finally got his revenge :)  
**


	7. Chapter 7

**New chapter (finally :) ), that's a long one. I hope you guys like it.**

* * *

 _ **MI6 building, shortly after Solo left**_

As soon as Solo had left, Gaby had called Waverly and had briefed him on the situation. A short while later, her boss had joined her and she had been able to give him a more detailed explanation.

"So, Solo and Kuryakin were captured by the very same people we've been looking for…", Waverly mused. "I didn't realize that your partners were that eager to start working on their new assignment."

"They gave Solo a list of files that he was supposed to steal. Apparently their intention is to recruit him and use his skills against us."

"If they want Solo to work for them, he should be safe for now. What about Kuryakin?"

"He's still at their base. They told Solo they would keep him alive until he got back with the files."

Gaby went on to explain how Napoleon and her had gathered some files containing obsolete and useless information to replace the real files and fool the criminals.

"All the files are encrypted, even the ones that will be useless to them. Even if they find a way to decrypt them, it will take them several days at the very least. That leaves us enough time to get to them. Solo still has Illya's tracker with him. Now the problem is that the criminals' base seems to be protected by some kind of shield, probably some conductive metal that blocks the signal. Solo is going to try and get the tracker outside so that we can pinpoint the location of the base."

Waverly rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

"I see.", he said. "So once the tracker starts emitting again, I'm sending you and a team over there to neutralize and capture those men. Hopefully we'll learn a lot more about the organization by interrogating them. I suppose you could try and rescue Mr. Solo and Mr. Kuryakin too if you find a moment."

"Yes, Sir."

 _And if they're still alive_

"Now if you'll excuse me, Miss Teller, there is something that I need to verify, I'll be back shortly."

Then he was gone. Gaby let out a sigh of relief. At least Waverly had agreed to send a rescue team for her partners, even if capturing the criminals was the main objective. She was still worried though. It was far from guaranteed that their plan would work. So many things could go wrong…

 _ **Criminals' base**_

The truck slowed down, according to Napoleon's calculations, they were almost back at the base now. He was making an effort to appear completely relaxed and slightly bored but his heart was pounding. He knew he wouldn't get another opportunity to get the tracker outside. If he failed, Illya and him were doomed. He had spent the whole drive planning his move, rehearsing each step in his mind. Things would have been easier if the tracker had been in his pocket but he had been concerned that the men would search him and find it so he had put it back in his shoe. Good thing that his hands were cuffed in front of him and not behind his back this time.

The truck stopped. They had reached their destination. One of the two guards motioned for him to stand up and get out. As they stepped out of the truck, Napoleon saw his chance. He suddenly pivoted and swung his cuffed hands at the surprised guard, hitting him in the temple. As the guard collapsed, knocked out cold, Napoleon bolted for the garage door. As he was running he heard the leader shout. He wasn't too worried about getting shot. He assumed that since they wanted him to work for them, it was unlikely that they would shoot him. The base was surrounded with guards anyway so they knew that he wouldn't go very far before someone stopped him. And that suited him fine, he didn't need to go very far. He had reached the door and was out now. He could hear footsteps and shouts behind him and forced himself to run even faster. He spotted some bushes not too far from the garage and sprinted towards them. As he reached the shrubs, he dropped to his knees and got the tracker out of his shoe, praying that his pursuers were not close enough to see what he was doing. He planted the tracker among the branches of the nearest bush. A few seconds later, three guards were pointing their guns at his back and ordering him to turn around and get up. Napoleon raised his hands in surrender and slowly got to his feet.

"I was just admiring your beautiful garden.", he said with a smile. "Are these spring-flowering shrubs?"

The guards didn't even look at the bushes.

 _Good_

One of them stepped closer and, without any warning, punched him hard in the gut.

 _Not so good_

Napoleon doubled over, gasping for breath. It was the second time in 48 hours. Getting punched in the gut was becoming a habit he wasn't too fond of. The man who had hit him grabbed him by the hair, straightening him up and dragged him back inside while the other guards held him at gunpoint.

The leader was waiting for them in the garage. The guard roughly pushed Napoleon in front of him.

"So Mr. Solo, you tried to give us the slip? Don't you feel comfortable in your new home? And you were going to leave without your partner? Some friend you are, Mr. Solo. Hmm I don't think that we'll be taking you to see him, you don't deserve it. What you need right now is a nice, quiet place and some time to think about what you've done. Then, if you're a good boy, maybe we'll take you to him. If he's still alive of course."

The leader left and Napoleon was once again led through a maze of corridors, to what resembled a small prison cell. The room was empty and had no windows and no electric lighting. He was brutally pushed inside and the door was locked. With the door closed, the room was now completely dark. Napoleon got up and walked until he found the wall. He sat down with his back against it and started thinking. The first part of the plan had gone surprisingly well. He had managed to get the tracker outside without anybody noticing. Now he just needed to wait for Gaby and the team to show up. There was only one thing that was worrying him. Illya. He still didn't know if his partner was alive and what had been done to him while he was gone. But there was nothing he could do about that now. All he could do was wait, and get some rest.

 _ **MI6 building**_

Gaby was slowly going crazy, waiting for the dot to reappear on Illya's tracking device. It had been more than an hour already. She was ready, the team was ready, all they needed now was a location. How far from the building was the criminals' base? Had Solo failed to get the tracker outside? Was he okay? What about Illya? Her heart clenched when she thought about the Russian. She couldn't shake the feeling that something terrible had happened or was going to happen to him. She got up and took a few steps around the room. She had been sitting there for so long that her legs were half asleep. She walked to the window and looked outside, it was still raining. As she turned back toward the center of the room, something caught her eye. She rushed back to the table. The dot was back! Solo had made it, the tracker was sending them the location of the base. A few minutes later she was leaving with her team.

 _Let's hope we don't get there too late…_

 _ **Criminals' base, second floor**_

Illya was beginning to feel anger and frustration building up inside him. Getting out of the torture room had been easy enough. There had been no guards posted outside. Probably because they didn't expect an injured man strapped down to an examination table to go anywhere. He, himself was surprised that he had been able to get this far. He felt completely exhausted. He had spent a significant amount of time wandering stealthily around the base, looking for an exit until he had finally found one. The only problem was that there were two men guarding it. From his hiding spot, he had observed the guards. They were both carrying guns. If the circumstances had been different he might have been tempted to try something but in his current state, there was no way he would be able to neutralize two armed guards. The only chance he had to get out was to find a gun. With all the guards carrying weapons, there had to be an armory somewhere in the building, he would find everything he needed for his escape there. He had already explored the first level of the base and hadn't seen anything that looked like an armory. Not far from his hiding spot, he had found a staircase leading to the higher levels and had carried on his search there. He had found nothing though and was back in the corridor leading to the staircase. After checking that there was no one around, Illya sighed in frustration and let himself slide down against the wall to a crouching position. If he couldn't find the armory, the only other solution was to steal a gun from one from the guards. He would have to find an isolated guard, creep up on him, overpower him and get his hands on his weapon. Easier said than done. He decided to allow himself a few minutes of rest, he felt so tired. He sat down, leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes for a few seconds.

 _ **At the same moment, criminals' base, first floor**_

Napoleon was woken up by the sound of the door being unlocked. He got to his feet and was roughly pushed out of the room. The leader and the man who had shot Illya were standing there. The leader was smiling affably.

"Ah, Mr. Solo. I hope that you're going to be more reasonable from now on and that you're not going to try to escape again. It would be better if we didn't have to hurt you but we will if we need to. Now, I'm taking you to see your partner. He'll be happy to see you…if he's conscious, I haven't had time to check on him yet."

One of the guards behind Napoleon pushed him with his gun, encouraging him to follow the leader. After a while, the corridors started looking familiar, as they stopped in front of the door, Napoleon's pulse quickened.

 _Please be alive, Peril…_

The leader opened the door and went in first. Napoleon was going to follow when he heard an exclamation of surprise, followed by loud swearing. As he stepped inside the room, he understood why. The leader was standing over what looked like the body of the doctor. Napoleon's eyes shifted to the examination table, Illya wasn't there. Illya wasn't in the room.

 _Good job, Peril._

As he stepped closer to the body he noticed the copious amounts of blood and the syringe protruding from the doctor's chest.

 _Hmm. It looks like Peril has outdone himself this time._

The leader was still shouting.

"How did he manage to escape?! He was injured! He was strapped down to the goddamn table! How did he do it?!"

"I told you it wasn't a good idea to leave the two of them alone in the same room.", Napoleon said, unable to repress a mocking smile.

The leader spun around and smashed his fist into Napoleon's face.

"Strap him to the chair!"

Napoleon's handcuffs were removed and he found himself in the familiar chair again. Except that this time his ears were ringing and his nose was bleeding. The man who had shot Illya was examining the straps on the table.

"It looks like he was able to cut through one of the straps…"

"Cut through…but how?..."

Then the leader's eyes met Napoleon's and he knew.

"You.", he stepped closer to the chair and placed himself right in front of Napoleon. "You helped him."

The leader's voice was cold. His upper lip was twitching as he attempted to contain his fury.

"I don't know what you're talking about.", Napoleon answered. "You can't blame me for your faulty equipment. Let's hope that this incident teaches you to be more caref…"

Before he could finish his sentence, the leader clamped his hand around his throat and started squeezing. Napoleon tried to free himself but, strapped to the chair, his movements were limited and he couldn't escape the man's grip. He started making small choking noises as his face turned red.

"The doctor was a invaluable member of our organization. Do you have any idea of how hard it is going to be to find someone to replace him? Do you?!"

The leader tightened his grip even more, digging his fingers into the sides of his throat. Spots began to dance in front of Napoleon's eyes. Just as was about to pass out, the man released him and he slumped in the chair, gasping. His relief was short-lived as the leader immediately slugged him in the stomach.

 _All good things come in threes…_

The leader turned toward the gun expert.

"Find Kuryakin. Kill him. I want him dead."

The man nodded.

"He can't have gone far, all the exits are guarded."

He took his gun out of his holster and walked toward the door.

"Be careful, he's injured but he might still be dangerous. Look what he did to the doctor. Make sure he's dead and bring his body back.", the leader went on. "I'm sure his partner will be happy to see it.", he added, looking at Napoleon.

The American was wise enough to keep his mouth shut this time. He was really worried for Illya now. He knew that his injured partner would be no match for the man who had been sent to hunt him down. The Russian's only chance was to remain hidden until Gaby and the reinforcements showed up.

 _Hang on, Peril, help is coming, please don't do anything stupid, please don't get yourself killed._

 _ **Half an hour later, Criminals' base, second floor**_

Illya jerked awake. He hadn't even realized he had dozed off. How long had he been asleep? He had been very lucky that no one had found him. This wasn't exactly the best hiding spot. He carefully stretched his sore body and sighed. Even though he had no idea how long he had been sleeping, he was pretty sure that someone would have found the unfortunate doctor by now, which meant that there were probably a couple of guards searching the base, looking for him. He needed to keep moving and find a way to get out. He pushed himself up and couldn't supress a cry of pain. For a moment he had forgotten about his shoulder wound and his broken fingers. He suddenly remembered them all too well. Furious at himself he froze and listened, holding his breath, hoping that he had not attracted the attention of a pack of trigger-happy guards. Silence. No sound of approaching footsteps. After a few moments of complete silence, Illya decided that it was safe to move. He risked a glance around the corner…and found himself face to face with the man who was responsible for the hole in his shoulder. He must have heard him cry out and had been creeping up on him. Looking down, Illya saw that the man was holding a gun. He didn't look back up, the man must not have expected his prey to pop up right in front of him and had looked as surprised as Illya but he was already raising the gun and the Russian knew he only had a second to act. As the gun was still coming up, he kicked it out of the man's hand. The weapon clattered away and Illya decided that he needed to get his hands on that gun. It was his only chance of getting out of the base alive. He rapidly closed the short distance between him and the man, lunging at his opponent and throwing a punch at the same time. But Illya wasn't exactly in the best shape and his reflexes weren't as sharp as they would normally have been. The man dodged his attack with ease, causing him to loose his balance. His opponent, obviously skilled in hand-to-hand combat, seized the opportunity and hit him hard, targeting his injured shoulder. As the man's fist smashed into his wound, Illya yelped and staggered back toward the staircase, holding his shoulder. Not wanting to let his new punching bag get away, the man charged at Illya, slamming into the Russian with such force that the momentum sent them both hurtling down the stairs. They reached the bottom of the staircase, the man landing on top of the Russian agent who had banged his head on the way down. The criminal smiled as he noticed his opponent's confused expression. He put all his weight on Illya's torso and as the Russian weakly tried to punch him with his good arm, he grabbed his wrist and pinned his arm to the floor.

"Uh-oh, looks like our KGB agent hit his head a little too hard. But don't worry, I know for sure that the concussion is not going to kill you. This however…", he said, reaching for a sheath strapped to his leg and producing a long, double edged fighting knife.

"I'm going to make sure that it's not a non-fatal wound this time, Mr. Kuryakin."

He placed the tip of the blade against Illya's chest, angling the knife slightly, aiming for his heart. He turned it sideways so that the blade would pass between his victim's ribs.

Illya could feel the sharp point of the knife against his bare skin, dangerously close to his pounding heart. He knew that he needed to move or he was going to die but he was finding it hard to concentrate and his body simply refused to cooperate.

"So, how should we do this? One firm push and it's over? But that would be too quick… Or I could drive it in inch by inch instead, now that sounds exciting, doesn't it?"

The Russian groaned. He definitely felt more nauseous than excited. Was there anyone around here who wasn't a sadistic psycho?

Illya's injured arm flailed weakly as he made another attempt to punch his attacker, his blurred vision wasn't helping. He didn't even come close to hitting his target. Worse, the man shifted his position and stepped on his broken fingers, painfully pinning his injured arm to the floor. Illya's sluggish brain still registered the pain, he gasped and stopped struggling.

Satisfied that his victim was completely helpless, the man smiled and adjusted his grip on the knife.

"Ready?"

Illya blinked, trying to clear his vision. A word suddenly popped into his foggy mind.

"Cowboy…", he mumbled thickly.

But his partner wasn't there. No one was coming to help him this time.

He let out a strangled groan as the blade pierced his chest.

 **End of chapter 7**


	8. Chapter 8

**Here is chapter 8, I hope you like this chapter :)  
**

* * *

 _ **Criminals' base**_

After the gunman had been sent to kill Illya, Napoleon had been escorted back to his cell. Before the guard had taken him away, the leader had promised him that he would inform him as soon as his partner's body had been delivered. Of course Napoleon wasn't going to wait for that to happen. After a few contortions, he managed to get the lock-picking tool that he had stolen earlier out of his sleeve. The leader had provided him with a full set of burglary tools for his "mission", it had been easy to select the one he would need for that type of escape. He had counted on them being too excited by the success of the mission to notice that anything was missing. He hadn't tried to use it earlier because he needed to know where Illya was before he could plan their escape. Now that he knew that their captors no longer had Illya, there was no reason for him to remain their prisoner. Another very good reason to give his captors the slip was that he needed to find Illya before the gunman did. The Russian was injured and probably not in top shape, he was an easy target. Napoleon had no way of knowing exactly when Gaby and her team would get there, it might be too late to help Illya.

"My time to shine…", he whispered to himself as he started to pick his handcuffs.

It was harder than he had expected, the room was completely dark so he couldn't really see what he was doing. And he had to work slowly as he didn't want the lock pick to slip out of his fingers, he would have a hard time looking for it in the dark. After what felt like an eternity to him, the handcuffs finally clicked open.

 _Okay, now the door, this should be easier._

Napoleon felt his way to the door in the dark. He knelt down and started feeling for the lock. No sooner had he found it than he heard footsteps, a key being slid into the lock and the door flew open. Blinking at the sudden light, still holding the lock-picking tool in his hands, Napoleon saw a guard and the leader standing in the doorway.

"Listen, I know this looks bad, but let me explain…"

The guard pointed his gun at him and once again he was led to the room where Illya had been tortured. The leader had remained silent on their way there and it had made Napoleon nervous. He dreaded what he would find in the room. Upon entering, he quickly scanned the room and almost sighed in relief. His partner's body wasn't there. Before he could ask why they had brought him back there, the leader spoke.

"You are a very talented man Mr Solo…", he said.

 _I sense a 'but' coming…_

"But I don't think you quite understand the situation. You're part of our big family now, you're staying with us. Your stunt with the lock pick was impressive but you must understand that all your escape attempts are futile."

The man hadn't threatened him explicitly but something in his tone was making Napoleon nervous.

"I think we need to teach you a lesson."

Napoleon felt his heart rate speed up.

"Oh so you've found a replacement for the late doctor? That didn't take too long."

"No, we're not going to torture you Mr Solo, nothing that extreme. You're too precious to us. I just want to make sure that you're not going to try and escape again."

Not knowing what to expect, Napoleon watched as the leader went to a cabinet and came back with several lengths of rope. Two guards pointed their guns at him while the leader used the rope to tie his wrists tightly together behind his back. Then he felt his head being pulled back and what felt like a hangman's noose was slipped around his neck. The man then raised his bound wrists behind his back, straining his shoulders, and tied the length of rope around his neck to the one around his wrists. The length of rope between Napoleon's neck and wrist was now too short for him to stand straight comfortably, he couldn't let his arms fall back down behind his back without having the noose tighten around his neck.

"Not exactly comfortable, is it? I don't think you will be picking your way out of this, Mr Solo."

"I wonder where you learned how to do that", Napoleon said, unable to supress a mocking smile despite his less than pleasant situation.

The leader grabbed the rope and pulled hard, tightening the noose around Napoleon's neck and watched him struggle to breathe for a moment. Then he let go and loosened the noose again.

"Don't worry Mr Solo you'll learn when is a good time to speak and…"

The door suddenly flew open, interrupting the leader mid-sentence. One of the leader's men rushed into the room.

"We're being attacked, sir. You need to leave."

"What? Attacked by whom?", the leader asked.

Then it dawned on him. He turned back toward Napoleon.

"Oh, of course.", he said, his lip twitching with rage. "You managed to bring your friends from the MI6 here."

"Sir, you need to leave now. We'll hold them back."

Cursing, the leader rushed to a table at the far end of the room and came back with a briefcase.

"You're coming with me.", he snarled, as he grabbed the rope tied around his prisoner's neck, forcing a choking Napoleon to stumble after him.

 _Well, things didn't exactly go as planned… but at least now I know that Gaby's here…_

* * *

 _ **At the same moment (criminals' base, different part)**_

The tip of the blade felt like a red-hot iron digging into Illya's chest. His opponent was determined to make it last, slowly pushing the knife into his flesh, twisting it side to side to make it more painful. Illya wanted it to be over. He felt so tired, he just wanted the pain to stop.

Then a sudden loud noise made his heart jump and an irrational fear seized him that it would impale itself on the man's blade. Just as he identified the noise as a gunshot, the man collapsed on top of him and he felt the knife being pushed deeper into his chest by his opponent's weight. Using all the strength he could muster, Illya pushed the now limp body of his attacker to the side. A small grunt of pain escaped his lips as the blade was yanked out of his chest. He let his arms drop back down. He was breathing heavily, he felt weak, everything hurt but, surprisingly, he was alive. He tensed as he heard approaching footsteps. Whoever had shot his opponent was coming to confirm the kill and Illya didn't know what to expect. He turned his head to have a look at his 'savior', then he heard her voice. That unmistakable German accent.

"Illya?..."

 _Gaby._

He closed his eyes in relief. He was too tired to try to find a logical explanation for how Gaby had managed to get there. The only thing that mattered was that she was there. Everything would be fine. He could finally rest.

Gaby couldn't decide whether she should be furious or worried sick as the man she had just shot collapsed on top of Illya. After making sure that there was no other immediate threat, she rushed to the Russian's side, praying that he was only wounded and not dying. She called his name. His eyes were closed. She could hear him breathe. He was still breathing. No gurgling sounds. Good. She placed her hand on his chest. She could feel his heart beating strong and regular under her palm. Good. He was alive, he was okay. She took a second to congratulate herself. Now she could be furious. She slapped him across the face.

Illya opened his eyes and groaned. The slapping wasn't going to improve his headache. Now Gaby was trying to hurt him too?

"You were going to let him kill you.", Gaby said, accusingly.

"Fell down the stairs, hit my head…concussed.", he mumbled.

Only then did she notice his slightly slurred speech and the way he kept blinking as if he was trying to clear his vision.

Her anger was replaced with concern once again and she placed a gentle hand against his cheek. As she felt him relax under her touch, she examined him more thoroughly. He was in bad shape. The first two fingers of his left hand were splinted. A bandage was wrapped around his shoulder, she could see blood seeping through. But her more immediate concern was the stab wound to his chest. It was hard to tell how deep the blade had gone but she guessed it couldn't be more than two inches since it had stopped short of his heart. Judging by Illya's state it didn't seem to have done any major damage. She had arrived just in time.

"What would you do without me, I wonder.", she sighed, gently smoothing his hair back.

The wound, though not life threatening, was still bleeding copiously and would require some stitches. Napoleon had told her that Illya had been tortured and she had known he would probably be injured when she found him so she had packed some first aid medical supplies before she'd left. After checking once more that there was no one around, she helped him sit up against the wall. Then she took a gauze wad and a roll of tape out of her bag. She pressed the gauze firmly against Illya's stab wound and winced in sympathy as she heard him hiss.

"Here, hold this.", she said as she grabbed his good hand and placed it on his chest, covering the gauze wad with it. She gave a gentle push, encouraging him to apply pressure on the wound. Illya had stopped blinking and although she could tell that he was in pain, he seemed a little more focused. Using gauze pads, Gaby managed to quickly wipe off most of the blood that had trickled down his chest. She removed his hand and she tightly wrapped several layers of tape around his torso to hold the gauze in place. The makeshift bandage would have to do until he could get his wound stitched up.

"Thank you.", Illya mumbled after she was done.

"Don't mention it.", Gaby answered, wondering why she was blushing and hoping he was too out of it to notice. "How is your head? Let me see."

She examined the back of his head, ran her hand over his scalp and found a giant bump. Luckily, it wasn't bleeding.

"How are you feeling?"

"I am fine, don't worry."

"Illya…I wonder how you manage to carry out successful undercover missions and be such a pathetic liar at the same time."

"I'm feeling a bit nauseous, vision is still a bit blurry", he conceded. "But I will be okay. Where is Cowboy?", he asked, hoping to change the subject.

Gaby didn't insist, she knew he didn't like to be fussed over when he was hurt. She had taken care of his chest wound, there wasn't really anything else she could do for him. The best thing he could do was to find a safe hiding spot and rest until she and her team rescued Napoleon and he could see a doctor.

"Solo is still with your captors. Our next assignment was to gather information on a new criminal organization. It turns out that they are the people who took you and were trying to recruit Solo. They sent Solo to steal some information at the MI6 base. I bumped into him there and he filled me in on your side of the story. Solo came back to rescue you. I'm starting to think he doesn't really hate you.", she explained.

"But you, how did you get here?"

"The tracker in the shoe."

As she uttered these words she noticed the corners of his mouth curving up slightly and she couldn't help but smile herself.

"So we still need to rescue Cowboy.", Illya said, his face becoming serious again.

He groaned as he attempted to push himself up.

"Wait, what do you think you're doing?", Gaby said, pressing down on his good shoulder to stop him from getting up. "You were shot, tortured, almost got skewered through the heart and you have a bump the size of a watermelon on the back of your head. You are not going anywhere. You're going to stay here and hide while I go rescue Solo with the rest of my team."

"No.", Illya replied as firmly as he could. "This is not the…"

"Not the Russian way, I know", she cut in. "Well guess what, we are doing things my way from now on. You're much too weak to be Russian right now."

Illya blushed and opened his mouth to retort but found that he was too tired to come up with a valid argument. Gaby was right anyway. Even if he managed to get up and walk, he would be too slow and weak to be of any help. He looked down at his stab wound and saw a small stain of blood on the thick bandage. With his chest transformed into a slot machine, it probably wasn't a good idea to move around too much.

"Fine.", he grunted.

Gaby helped him up and guided him to a less conspicuous spot not far from the staircase. She quickly went back to get the knife and placed it in his good hand.

"Just in case…"

"He had a gun. The man you shot. I kicked it out of his hand, it must be somewhere in the corridor upstairs."

"Okay I'll get it."

"Be careful."

Two minutes later Gaby was back with the gun. She handed it to Illya and after promising that she would be back soon with Solo, she left.

Illya carefully rested his head against the wall, wincing as his bump touched the hard surface. He had more options now that he had the gun. He would rest for a while until some of his strength returned. Then he would catch up with Gaby and rescue Cowboy.

 **End of chapter 8  
**

 **Illya finally got some comfort and Napoleon...gets into even more trouble :)**


	9. Chapter 9

**Here is Chapter 9, finally :) . One last chapter after this one and the story will be complete**

* * *

 _ **Criminals' base**_

Gun in hand, Gaby hurried down the corridors. A few minutes earlier, she had caught up with the part of her team that was inside the building. Most of the members of the organization present in the building had either been shot or captured. The situation was under control. There was only one tiny problem. The leader had escaped…and he had taken Solo hostage. Apparently they were heading towards the opposite side of the building, where she had left Illya. She had told her men to stay put, understanding that if the leader realized he was being followed, there was a risk that he would hurt Napoleon, or use him as a human shield. Then Gaby had contacted the rest of the team that had been in charge of securing the outside of the building. All the exits were guarded but she had a hunch that the leader was heading for the exit that she and her team had used to get in, it was the least conspicuous and was located near the garage. It was also closest to the road and would allow for an easier escape. She wanted her men outside to focus on this exit. She was heading there herself, hoping that Illya was still hiding and not wandering around the corridors where the leader could shoot him. Hoping that Napoleon wasn't hurt. Hoping that they would be able to neutralize the leader before he could kill Napoleon. Gaby sighed in frustration.

 _Damn…_

Working with two partners that she cared about wasn't a picnic. Especially when, like a pair of well-trained synchronized swimmers, they decided to both get in trouble exactly at the same time. She could only save one partner at a time.

 _ **A few minutes earlier (criminals' base, opposite side)**_

Napoleon was trying to think as he stumbled after the leader, half-strangled by the rope around his neck.

 _Damn, who would have thought the guy was such a fast runner…_

"You'd better hurry Mr Solo, if your little friends catch up with us and start shooting, I'll have to use you as a shield."

"That wasn't mentioned in the contract," Napoleon panted. "I hope I'm getting some kind of danger pay as compensation."

After a while they turned a corner and the man led Napoleon up several flights of stairs. Then the leader stopped abruptly, causing his prisoner to slightly lose his balance and the rope around his neck to tighten even more.

"It seems that we have managed to lose your colleagues, I think we can afford to stop for a bit.", the leader said.

He set his briefcase down and pulled his gun out of his holster. Napoleon was having a hard time catching his breath with the rope constricting his throat. Noticing that, the man stepped closer to him and loosened the noose slightly. Thankful that his windpipe was no longer reduced to the diameter of a hair, Napoleon took a moment to recuperate and scan his surroundings. They had reached the second floor and were standing on a platform surrounded by a railing.

The leader took a folding knife out of his pocket and used it to cut the rope binding his prisoner's wrists together. Napoleon almost sighed in relief as he was finally able to fully extend his arms without strangling himself. But he knew that the man wasn't letting him go free and whatever was going to happen next, he knew that he probably wasn't going to like it.

"So what's the plan, are you going to shoot me in the face?", Napoleon asked, eyeing the gun that was pointed at him.

"No, no Mr Solo. Tempting as it is, you can still be useful to me."

"Always glad to be of service", Napoleon answered with a forced smile.

The man produced a pair of handcuffs and tossed them to the agent. Still pointing his gun at Napoleon, he motioned for him to move closer to the railing.

"Now Mr Solo I want you to turn around, climb on that railing and sit on it. Once you're sitting comfortably, you will put those handcuffs around your wrists. And don't try anything stupid, my gun is still pointed at your back."

With the gun aimed at his back, Napoleon didn't really have any other options. He did as he was told, all the while trying to figure out what the leader's plan was.

"What I have in mind might not stop your friends from following me but it should slow they down a bit and keep them busy long enough to give me a comfortable head start. And there's even a chance that you might get out of here alive. Granted, it's a tiny chance but it's better than nothing, right?"

Sitting on the railing, his wrists cuffed in front of him, Napoleon was looking down at the floor twenty feet below. Was the man going to make him jump? How was him going 'splat' supposed to slow the others down? And how the hell was he supposed to survive that?

He felt a slight tug on the rope around his neck. He started to turn his head to see what was going on but the hard barrel of the gun against his temple stopped him.

"Ah ah, no cheating Mr Solo. You wouldn't want to spoil the surprise."

Then the leader was standing next to him, the gun still aimed at his head. The man used his free hand to make sure that the cuffs were secure, then he put the length of rope hanging from Napoleon's neck between the agent's hands.

"If I were you Mr Solo, I would hold on tight to that rope…"

And then it all made sense. As realization dawned on him, Napoleon barely had time to tighten his grip on the rope and brace himself before the leader shoved him over the railing. As he felt himself fall, he concentrated on keeping his grip on the rope and his arms flexed so that when the rope became taut, they would absorb the impact.

He was now dangling from the railing where the man had attached the other end of the rope. Luckily, the rope wasn't very long so his fall had been short and not too brutal, his arms hurt but at least he hadn't lost his grip. On the minus side, it was too long to allow him to reach for the railing and pull himself up. And with his hands cuffed together, letting go of the rope to grab the railing would have been impossible anyway. The handcuffs also meant that climbing up the rope was not an option.

 _So what_ are _my options?.._

Napoleon looked up, he knew that the leader was already gone. Was it wise to call for help? He had no idea where Gaby was. The whole episode on the platform had taken no more than five minutes. He didn't know how close the MI6 agents had been following but it could be a while before they got there. Yelling for help might speed things up. On the other hand, it was risky. The only thing missing for him to be the ultimate target was an actual bullseye painted on his chest. He didn't want to attract the attention of a guard and get shot.

 _Maybe I can swing my legs and use the momentum to reach the stairs…_

A few attempts later, he was still hanging from the railing, winded and extremely annoyed.

 _Think, Solo… there has to be a way out of this…_

But he was finding it increasingly hard to concentrate, he could feel his blood beating in his temples and the muscles in his arms were screaming. He knew he wouldn't be able to hold on for much longer. Napoleon realized now that he had wasted some precious time and that he should have started calling for help much earlier. And so he started shouting, as loud as he could.

 _ **At the same moment (criminals' base, first floor)**_

Illya opened his eyes. He had fallen asleep again. This was really developing into a bad habit. He blinked, his vision wasn't blurry anymore. Good. He slowly pushed himself up and winced. The pain in his head was still too intense for his liking but he was done resting. He picked up the gun which had fallen from his hand and took a few steps. A shout made him stop dead in his tracks. Now he knew what had woken him up. He had thought the shouting had been in his dreams. Someone was shouting for help. Someone who sounded suspiciously like his stupid American partner. Illya frowned, thinking back to what Gaby had told him. Solo was still in the hands of their captors. Could this be a trap? Maybe he should wait for Gaby to come back with her team. The shouting was coming from upstairs, it sounded more urgent and desperate now. Illya started heading in the direction of the voice. His partner was in trouble, it was his job to help him. And even if he wasn't in the best shape, he still knew how to do his job.

 _ **Criminals' base, second floor**_

Napoleon was getting desperate. It seemed that this area of the base was completely deserted. The guards had probably fled or been captured by Gaby's team. So he was not going to get shot. In other circumstances this would have been good news but since the alternative was being strangled to death by a piece of rope, it wasn't much comfort. He was still calling for help but his shouts were getting weaker. His muscles were burning and he was having a hard time keeping the rope from slipping through his sweaty palms.

 _So this is how I die? It's more original than a bullet in the head I suppose. At least it won't slow the others down. Unless they take some time to cut my hanging corpse down…_

He opened his mouth to shout again but was stopped by a voice coming from above.

"Can't someone get some sleep around here?"

Napoleon looked up to see his partner standing on the platform, leaning over the railing, reaching for the rope. A wave of relief crashed over him as Illya started pulling him up. He concentrated on keeping his grip on the rope and, once he was high enough, used his feet to push himself up on the railing. One last pull and he was up on the platform. He sank to his knees and took a moment to catch his breath while Illya loosened the damn noose and removed it from around his neck. Napoleon realized that he was still holding on to the rope with a death grip. He finally let go and stretched his arms, trying to compose himself and to stop his hands from shaking.

"I'm glad you happened to be in the neighborhood, Peril, I was at the end of my rope."

"You should spend more time exercising, Cowboy."

"Hey, there's only so much time a human being can spend hanging from a rope in pull-up position. I'm actually surprised I lasted that long."

Illya shrugged, wincing slightly as he did so. Napoleon took a moment to observe his partner. He was leaning against the wall and looked like he was in bad shape. The agent felt a pang of gratitude as his gaze fell on the Russian's injured shoulder and broken fingers. It must have been extremely painful for him to pull his partner up on the platform.

"That's new…", Napoleon said, pointing at the bandage on Illya's chest. A fresh stain of blood was slowly spreading on the white gauze. "Did someone mistake you for a vampire? Not that it would surprise me…"

Illya briefly filled him in on what had happened since they had been separated. How he had managed to escape and kill the doctor, how he had wandered around the base looking for an exit, the fight and how he had hit his head falling down the stairs, how Gaby had saved him from being stabbed in the heart- "Are you blushing, Peril?"- how he should have left his stupid American partner hanging at the end of his rope to teach him a lesson…

Napoleon smiled.

"Sorry Peril, Anyway, I'm glad you're alive and I'm sure that deep down, you feel the same way about me. By the way, I don't suppose you have a hairpin on you?"

Illya stared at him blankly.

"I didn't think so. I guess that means I'm keeping the handcuffs for now. So what should we do now?"

"When I was exploring the base I found an exit not far from here. It was guarded but with the base under attack, it's likely that the guards have fled or been captured."

"That's probably the exit that the leader used after he left me hanging."

"We should go after him then."

"Hum, I wouldn't be too worried about him escaping. I'm pretty sure that the MI6 has all the exits covered. Gaby is probably already over there, supervising his capture. And don't think I haven't noticed the way you're leaning heavily on the wall and your occasional wince of pain, you are in no condition to go after anyone. You should probably stay here and take it easy. I'll go find the others, and come back with a doctor."

"No. I'm not staying here. I can make it to the exit."

"Are you sure, Peril?"

"I will be fine. I'm not a fragile American. Besides, the sooner I get out of here, the sooner I can receive medical attention."

"That's settled then", Napoleon said, walking over to the Russian and presenting his shoulder to him.

Illya gazed at it stupidly for a few seconds before he understood and begrudgingly accepted to lean on his partner.

Napoleon smiled as they started heading in the direction of the exit. It felt good to finally have his stubborn and irritable partner back.

 **End of chapter 9**

 **Yay, Napoleon and Illya are finally reunited, now they just need to find Gaby and the trio will be complete once again :)**


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